The Day a Poetic sentence made me very happy indeed.

From the breaking incredibly out of date news desk here follows a story of the roller-coaster of experiences that I partooked in over the weekend in relation to my trusty motor.

Friday: Heading to appointment in South Birmingham, I stop at lights on Hamstead Hill. Pulling off from lights the car feels "weird." It's like the gears haven't engaged properly, and the steering feels a bit like I'm on skis...(or the snow levels on a driving computer game). I pull over and look at the tires and test the gears. All appears fine. I drive off from the kerb and the car is well weird, but the problem is definately the steering. I decide to drive on for a bit to see if I'm imagining it (unlikely as that sounds). I'm not. I stop, call my mum (who I'm on my way to see) and turn round and go home. The car is oversteering to the left dramatically as I drive home at approximately 3 miles per hour. I get home and think "I'll sort it out on Monday"

Saturday: Bob comes to my rescue and takes me shopping (to three seperate locations no less. She is an awesome friend, in times of need and in times of no need.)

Sunday: Kate (aka Fincho, but that's being phased out apparently) comes round with Phill to take me round to Phill's to watch two football matches (1st Blues v Southampton, one of the least interesting games I've watched for a long time - I should have guessed this when I asked Phill what his prediction for the match was and he proffered the most confident "nil-nil" I've ever heard someone proffer. 2nd United's somewhat difficult to stomach but who cares we beat the Aresnal 2-0 victory - I thought neither team acquitted themselves particularly well spiritually speaking, but it makes the Premiership season more interesting and saves us from the countless editorials telling us the "balance of power in English football has shifted south" for a bit...but I digress). Kate then also drove me home, which was incredibly nice of her I thought...

Monday: Right, I'm plucking up the courage, I've got my credit card ready and I'm gonna pay what it takes to have a car again (despite the fact that money is somewhat on the tight side at the mo...). I decide I'll get in the car and test out the steering so I can accurately describe the problem. I do a three point turn at the end of the cul-de-sac I live on and the steering is absolutely fine. I find this odd. I drive a little further. It's still ok. I drive considerably further, and it's as responsive and secure as it was the day I first drove it. I was very confused indeed. It had been, ladies and gentlemen, like driving on ice, the steering had been so light. I ring a Ford garage. The man says I should get the RAC to come and check it out. I ring the RAC and book them to come round in the afternoon. I get four buses to get to and from my massage (which had the pleasant side effect of being in town at lunchtime and meeting up with Dave). I get home, the RAC man comes, I start to tell him and before I can finish the first sentence he says "Say no more." (I think, am I in a Python sketch?) He says "On Friday, there was a diesel spill on Hamstead Hill."(that's the poetic sentence). He tells me he's been called out to 6 cars round here with light steering problems, and that he himself had spun round in it in his van what must have been a few minutes after I left the scene. This means my car is fine, totally safe to drive and at a cost of zero pounds and zero pence. Hurray!

Long post, no point to it really, but it recounts a story which made me very happy indeed.

As an afterthought, during the writing of this post Stary Eyed Surprise by Oakenfold has played. Anyone with access to it listen to it and tell me if I'm crazy or if the vocals are being performed by the Incumbent President of the Yoonited States?!

With love,

Paul